


The Perfect Gift

by flecksofpoppy



Series: A Little Faith-verse Companion Pieces [6]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A Little Faith-verse, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, M/M, Multi, Reibert - Freeform, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Positive, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Threesome - M/M/M, kink positive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2144736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reiner gets a special birthday gift from Bertolt and Jean. Written for Reiner's (belated) birthday (aka BRAUNDAY).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theisles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theisles/gifts).



> This is shameless smut. Filthy, shameless smut written for a friend.

“So,” Bertolt starts, “Reiner’s birthday is tomorrow.”

It’s just another average evening. Bertolt had offered to make dinner, and Jean was wont for company, so he’d come over. They’re just waiting for Reiner to come home, drinking beer.

Jean raises an eyebrow, leaning back to drape his arm over the back of his chair cross his legs.

“Okay,” he replies with a nod. “Are you planning anything?”

Bertolt gives a little shrug. “We always do a little something, but I thought...”

Jean just stares at him expectantly, waiting.

“What? Did you plan a party or something?” he prompts.

They just stare at each other; Bertolt snorts first, and Jean rolls his eyes. They both know that Reiner’s the party planner in this gay triforce.

“Well, in a way, yes” Bertolt corrects. “Not a _party_ -party, though. I’m going to make him a cake, and then I had an idea this year for a gift.”

“Oh, okay,” Jean nods, taking a longer sip of his beer. “Do you need help or something?”

“Kind of,” Bertolt says, raising an eyebrow and fiddling with his beer bottle label, “I want it to be a...” he coughs slightly, and raises his eyes to give Jean a meaningful look, “private party.”

Jean immediately grins, leaning forward on his elbows to leer at Bertolt. “Sounds good,” he replies. He’s gotten more confident since he’s accustomed to how seamlessly sex can come up in a conversation, at least with Bertolt and Reiner.

“But a little different this time,” Bertolt adds, since the three of them have “private parties” all the time.

Jean immediately looks intrigued, his eyes widening slightly. “Different how?”

Bertolt arranges himself demurely, one hand clutched around his drink and the other resting on the placemat, and he sits up straighter. “How do you feel about cross-dressing?”

“You mean... like, a drag show?” Jean asks, frowning a little in confusion.

“Um, sort of,” Bertolt says awkwardly. He never knows what to expect with Jean, so he’s treading carefully avoid making Jean uncomfortable. “Only... without the performance part.”

“You want me to dress like a girl?” Jean blurts out, his eyes wide. They just get even wider as Bertolt lets out a quiet laugh. 

“No,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “I mean, I would cross-dress.”

“ _You_ would?” 

Bertolt is genuinely surprised that this also seems to surprise Jean. The three of them all know who the kinkiest one is, and it’s not Reiner or Jean.

“Well, yeah,” he says with a shrug. “I’ve never tried it,” he explains with a conspiratorial expression and small smile. “And Reiner’s voiced interest in before—we’ve just never actually done it.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Um,” Bertolt says, swallowing and hoping to everything holy that Jean will say yes, “to fuck me while I’m wearing lingerie while Reiner watches.”

Jean blinks for a minute, takes a sip of his beer, and shrugs. “Sure.”

“But most importantly,” Bertolt adds, rising to put his empty bottle in the sink, “I want Reiner to have a good time and _relax_.”

Jean makes a meditative sound; the meaning of the words aren’t lost on him.

“You know how he is,” Bertolt says simply.

When he turns back around, Jean is giving him a little, sympathetic half-smile. It’s both affectionate—a rare moment for Jean—but also knowing.

“Taking care of everyone,” he replies. 

“All the time,” Bertolt finishes with a little sigh. “It’s his birthday, so I want him to focus on enjoying himself.”

“Hey, man,” Jean says, crossing his legs as his chain wallet jingles, “me too.” He takes a thoughtful sip of his beer, and then looks up at Bertolt. “So, uh...” he blushes a little, and Bertolt fights the urge to laugh, “have you got something picked out?”

“Yeah,” Bertolt confirms, nodding, “but I need your help with the makeup.”

Jean goes to open his mouth, looking mildly outraged, before shutting it again.

“Cheap shot,” he finally says, frowning at Bertolt. 

Bertolt holds up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m serious!” he exclaims. “Will you just show me how to put on eyeliner?”

There’s a heavy sigh and a roll of eyes. “Fine,” Jean retorts, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be here tomorrow at around seven?”

“Sounds good,” Bertolt nods decisively. “Uh, I’ll need some time to... get ready.”

Jean groans with a laugh and covers his face with his hands. “Reiner better appreciate this,” he concludes, draining his beer.

= = =

Bertolt is bent over the faux-marble sink in his and Reiner’s tiny bathroom, leaning forward in the mirror in with a pained expression and black eyeliner smudged all over his fingers.

“How do women _do_ this every day?” he asks in horror, stabbing himself in the eye yet again.

Jean huffs and rolls his eyes, seizing the eye pencil from Bertolt hand.

“Just kind of... pull your eyelid,” Jean says, demonstrating, “and run the pencil over the edge of the lid. It’s not hard and it doesn’t have to be neat, because you can smudge it.”

“You know a lot about this,” Bertolt says, bending to grab a piece of toilet paper and wipe the black kohl off his fingers.

“I had grandiose plans of becoming a professional drag queen,” Jean deadpans without pause, picking up a pencil sharpener to help Bertolt. “But all I got was this lousy eyeliner.” 

“I wonder what that’s like,” Bertolt remarks suddenly. 

Jean just shrugs one shoulder, but looks thoughtful. “Probably fun, if you’re in the right place.” He gulps slightly, “I don’t think I’d ever do it, though.”

“Reiner would so do that,” Bertolt adds, laughing. 

Jean grins and snorts, nodding his head in agreement. “Well, maybe on a bet,” he amends.

“I can’t imagine that, though,” Bertolt continues, accepting the sharpened pencil in Jean’s hand. He leans over, concentrating carefully on his own reflection. “Being watched by a bunch of people? Having to _sing?_ ”

“Well, I don’t know if you actually sing,” Jean replies, humming a little in thought. “I thought they just lip sync.”

Bertolt gives a shrug, but the idea is still fascinating to him, if not a little stomach churning. He’ll never be able to understand people who want to be the center of attention.

Finally, he’s managed to apply the eyeliner in a way that looks somewhat acceptable, and he puts the pencil down. 

“So,” he says, turning to face Jean and blinking quickly, “do I look like a future drag performer?”

Jean starts to laugh as he stands up straight from where he’s been slouched against the wall and gives Bertolt an up and down.

“Um, yeah, kind of.”

“Do you think Reiner will like it?” Bertolt finally asks, turning around to look at Jean with kohl-rimmed eyes.

He already knows the answer as Jean’s eyes travel down his long legs, and then back up to his face.

“Yeah,” Jean replies, voice suddenly hoarse. He clears it noisily, and a small grin bends Bertolt’s mouth.

“So,” he says, turning back to around to do the other eye, “anything you’re not into tonight?”

“Eh,” Jean says with a shrug. “I’m feeling pretty adventurous.”

Bertolt nods in approval, walking back into the living room to gingerly sit down on the couch and awkwardly slide his foot into one of the high heeled shoes waiting there. He has to be careful about how he sits, because there’s another little surprise waiting under the underwear.

Jean follows him, watching curiously as he leans in the doorway with his arms crossed.

“You’re really gonna wear those?” he asks, eyebrows raised. However, if Bertolt’s not mistaken, there’s a touch of awe in Jean’s voice.

“Yup,” Bertolt replies decisively, gingerly sliding his other foot into the second shoe. Once they’re securely on his feet, he slowly stands up, feeling like a colt on shaky legs.

As soon as he takes a step forward, though, he fumbles a little, his ankles wobbling as he tries to balance.

Jean immediately leaves his position in the doorway to shoot out his hand before Bertolt falls; then helps him walk into the kitchen, clopping like a horse. 

The fresh smell of chocolate cake greets them, and Bertolt can practically see Jean’s mouth watering as his head is immediately turned toward the oven.

“Do I get a piece?” he asks once Bertolt’s safely docked against the wall, continuing to eye the oven intently.

Bertolt laughs, taking a few less awkward steps to lean against the counter and grab the oven mitt. “Maybe afterwards. The idea is to let Reiner relax and eat his cake, and, uh...” he trails off, looking at Jean and laughing nervously, “watch the show.”

Jean doesn’t even blink and nods. “Sounds good.” He shrugs a little, adding, “It is _his_ birthday.”

Bertolt slowly releases his death grip on the counter and stands upright. After a few moments, he’s able to keep his balance, and takes a cautious, experimental step. It’s not so bad once he gets used to them.

“Do I, uh...” he asks, looking at the floor and feeling silly for asking, “do I look okay?”

“You look really good,” Jean replies, nodding and blushing a little. “Reiner’s going to want to shove me out of the way and just do you over the table.”

Jean Kirschstein: master of tact.

Nevertheless, Bertolt appreciates Jean’s straightforwardness. He still feels a little nervous, but the way Jean is staring at him takes some of the edge off.

He looks down to adjust the outfit—“get-up” would really be the most appropriate term—to make sure everything is in order. He’d managed to find a pair of low-heeled shoes in his size, since anything taller would cause him to simultaneously hit the ceiling and also break his ankle. Then, the sheer black thigh highs are pulled up his long legs and fastened to a garter belt with little ruffles at the tops of them; and then over that, a very short silk slip that barely covers his ass. The sheer black underwear he’d managed to procure to go with the stockings and garters show just a peek of his ass, and his cock looks almost comical stuffed into the front of them.

He thought he’d get strange looks shopping for lingerie at a women’s underwear store, but he’d actually received heartfelt approval. In fact, the sales clerks were so impressed and touched that he was thoughtful enough to buy his (nonexistent) girlfriend “pretty lingerie” that he started to feel self-conscious about the attention.

Shockingly, they hadn’t even questioned it when Bertolt had said she was about the same height as him.

“Okay,” he says, nodding at Jean, “Reiner should be home in about ten minutes. So, I’m going to answer the door, and then we can just start and see what happens.”

“Are you sure he’s going to know it’s a ‘private’ surprise party for him?” Jean asks, raising an eyebrow.

Bertolt just stares at him with a wry expression on his face, and then Jean starts to laugh after a minute.

“Um, okay, fair point.”

Suddenly, they both jerk their heads toward the living room as the lock in the front door clicks.

“Okay,” Bertolt nods, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. He bites his lip, hoping desperately Reiner will enjoy this plan.

“You look really hot, Bertl,” Jean reassures him suddenly, interrupting Bertolt’s thoughts and offering a nod.

Bertolt shoots Jean an appreciative look, replying with a simple, “Thanks,” as he walks into the living room.

He immediately smiles when he sees Reiner—getting the same rush of happiness he always does when Reiner gets home—but Reiner’s turned away from him as he shrugs off his coat.

“Wow, traffic was hell getting home today,” Reiner gripes. “Something smells good!” he exclaims enthusiastically, hanging up his coat as he turns with a big smile. “Are you—” 

“Honey,” Bertl says with a grin, “you’re home.” He cocks his hip out and poses in the kitchen doorway in his ensemble.

Reiner’s eyes go wide, and his mouth drops open as he just stares; first, his eyes meet Bertolt’s and he blinks. Then they dart down over Bertolt’s outfit and back up; he licks his lips and swallows hard.

Bertolt hears Jean walk up behind him, and Reiner just stares at both of them for a minute, before breaking into a very enthusiastic grin.

“You remembered my birthday,” he says simply.

Jean starts to laugh, and Bertolt shoots Reiner a smile.

“What ever would make you think _that?_ ” he asks, trying not to laugh when Reiner starts to chuckle. “I’m just making you a birthday cake, so come in here and get your gift.”

Reiner follows them into the kitchen, still staring at Bertolt’s outfit.

“Sit,” Bertolt instructs, pointing at a chair with a single plate and fork set up neatly. The napkin is even folded a special way, and Reiner’s eyes widen as he does as asked. Jean takes the other chair, waiting with a curious expression on his face.

The timer dings just then, and Bertolt moves to open the oven and take out the cake. Reiner and Jean just stare as he very intentionally bends over far enough so that they can see the sheer underwear under the black silk slip.

“Fuck,” is all Bertolt hears Jean hiss, and Reiner echoes the sentiment with a grunt.

“Reiner,” Bertolt says, straightening as he turns around; both of them are staring at him with glazed over eyes.

“Huh?” Reiner hums.

“Do you want to try your cake?”

“Um,” Reiner replies, blinking a few times and clearing his throat, “yeah.”

“Okay,” Bertolt says with a nod, “it just has to cool down.”

Reiner just stares at him expectantly, obviously completely unsure of what’s going to happen, until Bertolt motions for Jean to come stand by him.

“Jean, will you help me cut the cake when it’s ready?” 

Jean’s eyes widen, and he just nods dumbly, standing up to join Bertolt. Immediately, Bertolt presses up against him and slides his hands down to Jean’s ass.

Reiner’s breath catches as he watches, and Bertolt shoots him a little smile, before turning to kiss Jean on the mouth.

Jean shivers a little, and his hand immediately slides down to Bertolt’s ass in return, remaining over top of the slip as he squeezes slightly.

They start to kiss and touch each other, and Bertolt knows Reiner’s enjoying what he’s seeing with the sharp intakes of breath every time he gets a peek underneath Bertolt’s slip.

Bertolt shamelessly slides his hand up under Jean’s shirt to pinch at his nipples, and Jean’s back arches.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his hands immediately circling around the front of Bertolt’s body to palm at his cock.

Bertolt pulls away quickly, turning to examine the cake; Jean just stares at him, flushed and panting, and then he realizes what the next step is.

Bertolt retrieves Reiner’s plate as if he hasn’t just been feeling Jean up and cuts a piece of chocolate cake to put on it.

He takes it back over and sets it down in front of Reiner, pointing at the fork. “Try it,” he instructs.

Reiner immediately looks enthusiastic, and he slides the fork through the moist cake, taking an eager bite.

“Oh my _god_ ,” he groans, his eyes slipping shut. “This is almost better than watching you and Jean feel each other up.” One eye cracks open, and he grins a little, “Well, nothing is better than those stockings.”

Bertolt returns the smiles and nods. “Good,” he says simply. “Enjoy your cake, and just relax.”

Without further preamble, Bertolt leans forward against the table with his ass in the air; Jean immediately comes over and wraps two hands around Bertolt’s hips, rocking his own hips forward.

Jean’s hands are a welcome feeling. His touch is confident and strong—Jean’s typical behavior once they’re going at it—and Bertolt moans as Jean grinds against his ass.

His breath catches and he lets out a startled moan, though, regardless that it’s just minor frottage. However, when Jean directs Bertolt to turn around and bend over, Reiner’s eyes widen.

From his bent position, Bertolt can see Reiner’s legs and crotch under the table, and he’s sporting an impressive bulge in his pants.

But then all thoughts leave Bertolt’s head as Jean pulls down the underwear around Bertolt’s thighs, and taps gently at the plug that’s currently stuffed in his ass.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Reiner groans, not even trying to keep his cool. Immediately, his hands wander between his legs, and Bertolt moans long and loud and low as he watches Reiner unzip his pants and reach inside. And then, there’s the radiating sensation as Jean teases him, tapping the plug, then getting brave and twisting it carefully.

Bertolt’s mouth falls open and he lets out a shrill cry, gasping to get his breath; it’s an intense sensation, and he’s had it in for a while now.

“Spank him,” comes Reiner’s gravelly voice. “He’s been bad, putting things in his ass before I even get home.”

Bertolt bites his lip and whines—for a minute, he thinks it might be _his_ birthday and he forgot—and then he shivers when he feels Jean give him a light smack on the ass.

They pause so that Bertolt can retake his position bent over the table, forearms balancing him as he struggles to remain in place.

The next smack is louder and more forceful, and he yelps; when he opens his eyes, he’s looking straight into Reiner’s. They just stare at each other as Jean starts to spank Bertolt, alternating between his buttocks, until it actually does start to sting.

This is going better than Bertolt ever could’ve hoped for.

“Does that hurt?” Reiner whispers to him, stroking his cheek. 

“Yeah,” Bertolt whispers, leaning forward to press a sloppy kiss against Reiner’s mouth, somewhat off target but still satisfying.

“Cake was good,” Reiner grins. Bertolt would grin back, if Jean wasn’t outright giving his ass a thorough beating at this point. “I think you deserve a reward.”

Bertolt whines and pants, spreading his legs a little further apart.

“Jean’s doing such a good job, too, that I think he should fuck you in front of me.”

“Y-yeah,” Bertolt stammers, trying to control his voice and get words out in between the desperate sounds he’s emitting.

Jean doesn’t need to be told twice, and slowly pulls the plug out of Bertolt’s ass, before going to retrieve the condoms and lube Bertolt had left on the window sill. 

Bertolt turns his head to watch Jean, and wave of desire crashes over him.

He always forgets how hot Jean is without his typical aloof expression and slouched posture. Now, the sound of his belt being undone and zipper of his jeans makes Bertolt shiver with anticipation, and he drops his boxers and pants around his knees, giving his cock a few strokes. He grunts as he slides a condom onto his erect cock, undoubtedly sensitive as he hisses softly, and then moves to return to his position behind Bertolt. He carefully pushes a finger into Bertolt’s ass—already loosened by the plug—and Bertolt moans.

Reiner leans back to continue eating his cake, watching intently as Jean starts to fuck Bertolt with his fingers. Every thrust earns a soft cry out of Bertolt, eyes screwed shut and face tense with concentration.

“Just fuck me,” he grounds out, “I can take it.” He knows he really can, too; he’s more than ready for Jean’s cock.

Bertolt gasps as Jean roughly pushes him further forward and he leans all of his weight against the small kitchen table clumsily, rattling the plate that Reiner’s eating off.

Jean grasps one of Bertolt’s hips as he slowly guides his cock in, going slow until he’s seated deep inside Bertolt. Then he snaps his hips forward and Bertolt gasps, hands fisting.

Jean starts to fuck Bertolt in an unforgiving rhythm, jerking his hips forward harshly so that Bertolt’s entire body is being shoved rhythmically against the table.

Reiner just watches, fork sitting motionless on the plate now—Bertolt momentarily makes a note to ask him about the cake later—and he reaches out suddenly to stroke Bertolt’s jaw.

“Fuck, you look good,” he whispers. “Need you, Bertl.”

Bertolt nods his head, and turns to look at Jean over his shoulder.

Jean immediately slows down and meets Bertolt’s eyes, waiting; he’s broken a sweat and his lips are swollen from where he’s been biting them.

“Let’s go out into the living room,” Bertolt directs, trying to find his normal voice as Jean pulls out of him. The sensation of lube dripping out and onto the backs of his thighs is both somewhat uncomfortable, but also a huge turn-on.

They all walk into the living room, and Bertolt turns to smile a little at Reiner who just stands there, looking like he won the lottery.

Bertolt presses forward, running his hands over Reiner’s shoulders and down to his stomach; he’s wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans, and Bertolt immediately presses his nose to inhale the scent of his skin. It’s so comforting and makes such intense heat rush through his body, that Bertolt just stands motionless for a moment. Finally, Reiner reaches down to slide his hands down Bertolt’s back and cup his ass.

“I like this,” he growls, tugging at the slip and pulling it up. “But,” he continues, stroking his fingers over the small of Bertolt’s bare back, “I like this better.”

Bertolt smiles, and starts to undress Reiner. Jean takes the hint and unceremoniously shucks off his own pants and pulls the band t-shirt he’s wearing over his head, depositing it on the ground until he’s standing there naked.

Bertolt slides his hands up under Reiner’s shirt, stopping to stroke light fingertips over his nipples, which earns a rather intoxicating gasp. He pushes the shirt up, and Reiner obliges, pulling it over his head to reveal his toned arms and chest. Bertolt immediately kisses at his collar bones and settles two hands at Reiner’s waist; he can hear Jean start to jerk off as he watches them, and Bertolt goes to work on his pants. They drop to the ground, and then the only one left wearing any type of clothing is Bertolt.

Reiner’s cock is hard and standing out in front of him now, already wet with precome at the tip, and Bertolt directs him to sit in a chair. Reiner sits down, and takes the hint when Bertolt pulls his legs apart; he slings each one over the armrests and tilts his hips, letting them both see his cock and ass.

Bertolt reaches out for Jean who comes obediently, and he kisses him, pressing close so that their cocks rub together, before pulling him down onto the ground on his knees.

They both crawl over to Reiner, and Bertolt takes the initiative, giving Reiner’s cock a few strokes, before kissing the tip and then sliding his mouth over it.

“Ah, god, fuck, Bertl,” Reiner hisses, throwing his head back, his hand immediately coming to tug at Bertolt’s hair.

Jean joins in, a little unsure of what to do at first, but then he takes the hint; Bertolt is more of an expert at this, so he moves to pay attention to Reiner’s balls while Jean sucks his cock.

Reiner looks like he just saw the gates to heaven, which is exactly what Bertolt wants; he can feel the muscles in Reiner’s thighs tensing as he sucks at his balls and fondles them, and Jean gives it everything he’s got with the shaft. Jean’s not an expert at giving head, but he’s not bad at it, and he’s gotten better with practice.

One of Reiner’s hands is tangled in Jean’s hair now, the other in Bertolt’s, and he’s whimpering and cursing under his breath.

Bertolt takes the liberty of deftly grabbing the tube of lube he’d brought with them and popping the cap open to dribble some onto his fingers, before pushing them forward to tease at Reiner’s entrance.

“Fuck yeah,” Reiner shudders, leaning back further and tilting his hips up to give Bertolt better access. His back arches as Bertolt presses one finger forward, still sucking at Reiner’s balls.

Jean is working his cock thoroughly, sliding his mouth up and down quickly, not gagging a bit. There’s an obscene wet sound that just turns Bertolt on even more, and then he moans as he feels Jean’s free hand reach down to fondle his cock.

He gets a finger into Reiner finally, going slow, and then curls it up. He knows exactly where Reiner’s prostate is, and he knows he’s successful when Reiner’s grip in his hair becomes painful.

“Oh god, fuck,” he grunts, panting, “let’s... I’m going to...”

Jean hears him and pulls away, looking up at Reiner and wiping the small dribble of precome and spit off his chin as he waits expectantly.

Bertolt pulls away, too, pulling his finger out of Reiner and leaning back to balance on his knees.

“Bedroom?” he asks.

Reiner nods vigorously, and gets up on shaky legs to walk toward the bedroom. Bertolt admires his ass as he walks, feeling his heart beat a little faster—as it always does—when he looks at Reiner’s body.

Jean is right next to Bertolt, and says under his breath, “It’s going good, right?”

Bertolt laughs softly and nods. “This is perfect.”

Once they’re all in the bedroom, Bertolt turns to say something to Reiner. Instead, he squeaks as Reiner grabs him bodily and throws him on the bed, flipping him over onto his stomach effortlessly and pushing the slip up.

Bertolt moans as he lies there, allowing Reiner to push the slip out of the way and press short kisses against the small of his back.

“Spread your legs for me,” Reiner says quietly, and Bertolt does as asked, spreading his legs wide part.

Jean situates himself at the head of the bed, watching in fascination, until Bertolt shimmies further up, lying on his side and pulling Jean to lie down in front of him.

Reiner immediately follows, stopping at their bedroom table to slide open the drawer to retrieve the lube, and then gets behind Bertolt. He squeezes some out and slicks up his fingers, reaching down to pull Bertolt’s leg up against his chest and teasing his entrance. 

Bertolt hisses and gasps, and then leans forward to kiss Jean; he bites Jean’s lower lip gently, and Jean’s eyes flutter shut. His hand ends up between Bertolt’s legs, pushing down the sheer underwear, as Jean starts to stroke his cock at the same time that Reiner presses a finger into him.

Bertolt is panting now, mouth hanging open so wide he feels like he can’t close it, chest heaving.

“Jean...” he groans out as Jean’s hand speeds up. “ _Reiner..._ ” Reiner hits his prostate, and Bertolt lets out a small sob.

He forces his head to clear enough to grit out, “Reiner, what do you want to do?”

The nudge of Reiner’s cock against Bertolt’s ass is enough to answer that question, and Bertolt nods.

Jean takes in the exchange, and pulls away, sitting up to stroke himself and just watch for a few minutes.

Reiner tugs at the slip, and Bertolt obliges, pulling it off over his head.

“Look so fucking good,” Reiner murmurs as he pushes Bertolt onto his stomach. “You gonna take my cock nice and deep?”

“Yeah,” Bertolt whispers, rubbing himself against the bedspread.

Reiner reaches for the condoms Bertolt had grabbed on their way in. The package makes a familiar crinkling sound as he tears it open with his teeth; Bertolt trembles with anticipation as Reiner rolls it onto his cock and lubes up again.

“All right,” he says, hovering over Bertolt’s back as he slaps his heavy cock against Bertolt’s ass. It’s wet with lube, and Bertolt moans as Reiner slowly starts to guide it into him. He waits for Bertolt to adjust as it slowly sinks in; it doesn’t take long, given that Bertolt’s ass has already taken a plug and Jean’s cock, until Reiner is balls deep.

He slides out and then pushes back in with a little more force, slowly starting to move his hips as Bertolt lets out little gasps laced with voice every time Reiner’s thrusts knock the breath out of him.

They speed up, until finally, Reiner is fucking him hard. “Tell me what you want,” he growls into Bertolt’s ear as he moves his hips roughly, their skin slapping together as the bedsprings shriek. “Say it out loud.”

Bertolt shudders and lets out a high-pitched moan, losing all sense of coherence.

“Want you to fuck me harder,” he sobs, “Reiner, _fuck_...”

“Who does your hole belong to?” Reiner growls, pressing sloppy, nippy kisses against the back of Bertolt’s shoulder.

“You,” Bertolt cries, fisting his hand in the sheets, his entire body bouncing against the bed, facedown and completely at the mercy of Reiner’s strength. “Fuck me with your huge cock. Oh, _god_...”

The garters are pulling against the backs of his thighs, but they stay in place, even with his legs spread wide part; he’s relatively sure one of the stockings is ripped at this point, but he’s also still got the heels on as Reiner mercilessly fucks him into the mattress. Reiner is sweaty against his back, pressing his forehead against Bertolt’s hair and whispering curses as he moves his body, pressing kisses there and grunting with his efforts. His body is heavy and reassuring, slick with sweat.

Bertolt is relatively sure Reiner is about to come, the way he starts to give short little tremors that Bertolt knows very well, but then, he unexpectedly pulls his cock out.

It slips from Bertolt’s body with an obscene squish of lube and Reiner flips him onto his back and kneels, pushing Bertolt’s knees up.

“Jean,” he says simply.

Jean is staring at them now, glassy-eyed and jerking off, and he starts when he hears his name.

“Y-yeah?” he grits out hoarsely, obviously enjoying the view.

“Sit on Bertl’s face,” Reiner commands simply, and Bertolt closes his eyes and lets out a moan, arching his back.

“This is for _your_ birthday, though,” he manages to groan out, reaching out his hand to caress Reiner’s thigh.

“I want to watch you eat out Jean,” Reiner says simply, his face completely serious and soaked with sweat. “Do him nice and good for me while I fuck myself on your cock.”

Jean is on the bed in a split second, looking shamelessly eager, as he spreads his legs and positions himself over Bertolt’s face, knees on both side of his head.

Reiner stays where he is, pulling both of Bertolt’s stockinged legs around his waist to rest there as Jean lowers himself to sit on Bertolt’s face.

Before Bertolt starts to work Jean’s ass his tongue and fingers, he sees Reiner start to stroke himself and lube up his fingers.

Jean is moaning loudly—being noisy like both of them love—almost crying at this point, as he Bertolt spreads his buttocks apart without hesitation and spits at his hole, running his tongue there and teasingly pressing his fingertips in. He knows Jean loves a good, hard fucking, and his legs are shaking as Bertolt’s tongue works its magic.

Bertolt jerks as he feels Reiner’s hand stroking his cock, and then sliding a condom over it. He parts his legs further as Reiner pulls the underwear and garters down, but just enough so that he can get to Bertolt’s cock.

“I want to see Bertl’s face, Jean,” Reiner requests, positioning himself over Bertolt’s cock. “Suck on his nipples instead.”

Jean doesn’t hesitate, moving away from Bertolt to side up next to him and play with his nipples, using his teeth and lips to tease at them. 

Bertolt sucks in a breath of air that he almost chokes on as he feels his own cock nudge Reiner’s entrance, and he arches his back and throws his arm across his forehead, biting his lip.

When he looks down, one hand twisting in Jean’s messy hair, Reiner is staring at him, and he realizes how he must look—stockings around his thighs, high-heeled shoes still on his feet, hips tilted slightly as Reiner gets ready to take his cock.

Jean takes the initiative himself suddenly, and grabs both of Bertolt’s hands.

“Pin them?” he asks simply.

“Please, yes,” Bertolt groans, letting Jean hold his wrists together and stretch his arms above his head.

Reiner slowly starts to work Bertolt’s cock into himself, going slow; he doesn’t bottom all that often, but when he does, he wants it badly and he takes it greedily.

“Fucking gorgeous cock, Bertl,” he groans out as Bertolt’s cock slides all the way into Reiner. “Filling me up so good.”

He cracks an eye open, and to Bertolt’s great amusement, quirks an eyebrow. “Happy birthday to me— _oh god..._ ” His breath hitches as Bertolt twitches his hips, and his face falls into a determined expression of concentration again.

Bertolt continues to stare down at Reiner as he starts to move, panting, his mouth falling open slightly as he slowly pumps his hips. Bertolt fights to keep his eyes open to watch, and he’s shaking as his cock slides in and out of Reiner without his control.

The bed is squeaking again and it smells like sweat and come, and Jean uses his free hand to play with Bertolt’s nipples some more.

There’s a cacophony of pornographic sound—the wet noise of Bertolt’s clock sliding in and out of Reiner, Jean’s gasps as he watches, and Bertolt’s moans as he whines and twists—and he loses it when Reiner moans out, “Come for me, Bertl.”

Bertl obeys, and he comes hard; he wanted Reiner to orgasm first, but he’s getting the distinct feeling by now that Reiner would actually rather watch him instead.

His mouth falls open and a legitimate scream makes it way out and his voice keens, high-pitched and hoarse, as the orgasm crashes into him. He shivers right from the tips of his toes all the way up through his hips and chest, rattling right into his heart and head, and a few tears trickle down his cheeks.

To his surprise, he feels Jean wipe them away as he releases Bertolt’s hands, and then he’s grinning with that lecherous stare that makes Bertolt grin back, even though he’s totally overwhelmed by the orgasm.

Reiner moves away, letting Bertolt's softening cock slip from body, and Bertolt holds out his hand.

“Fuck my mouth,” he says simply. Reiner gives him a wide, toothy smile and nods.

“Jean,” Reiner says unexpectedly, “fuck Bertl’s ass until you come.”

Bertolt gives a small little smile, closing his eyes happily. He arches his back as he nods his approval, reaching out his hand to twine his and Reiner’s fingers together.

“Leave the stockings on, though,” Reiner says as he gives his cock a few strokes and nudges the wet tip at Bertolt’s cheek, leaving a streak of precome.

Jean just grunts out an affirmative, his face flushed as he crawls down to the other end of the bed to roll on a condom and slick his cock up with lube. He holds Bertolt’s legs around his waist, positioning his cock as he slowly slides in. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Jean groans, eyes rolling back in his head as he slowly starts to thrust, his hips moving easily. Bertolt looks down, watching him for a moment; Jean is gorgeous when he’s unaware of what he looks like, isn’t thinking about anything except unadulterated pleasure. 

Reiner gives him an appreciative glance, too, and then reaches over to brush the hair out of Bertolt’s face.

Bertolt opens his mouth, and Reiner’s pushes his cock in all the way to back of Bertolt’s throat.

It’s a hypnotizing rhythm—Jean fucking his ass and Reiner fucking his mouth—and Bertolt is so tired and sated, he simply falls into the sensation. It’s almost a psychological orgasm, when Jean comes first. Bertolt can tell from the way his breath stutters and the tension that suddenly wracks his body.

And then Reiner comes soon after, emptying his cock into Bertolt’s mouth, who just swallows; he loves Reiner’s come, has from the first moment he ever gave Reiner a blowjob.

“Oh my god,” Reiner finally groans with a happy sigh, collapsing next to Bertolt. Even Jean doesn’t resist as he falls against Bertolt’s other side, heaving a sated sigh.

Bertolt takes a deep breath and curls against Reiner’s chest, feeling fucked out, sticky with come and spit, but completely sated with a bone-deep relaxation.

“I like these,” Reiner says appreciatively, trailing his fingers over the stockings that have somehow managed to stay pulled up, even without the garters.

Bertolt gives a tired laugh. “I like them, too,” he agrees. He starts when Reiner sits up and gently pulls each one down Bertolt’s legs, kissing the soft skin as he goes—lips pressed behind Bertolt’s knees, then his calf, even the curve of his ankle, until Bertolt is blushing. He’s not used to being so openly doted upon.

“It’s my birthday,” Reiner says before Bertolt can say he “doesn’t have to do that,” and Bertolt’s mouth clamps shut. Then, a small smile pulls at his lips, and he rolls onto his back so he can give Jean an appreciative pat on the arm.

“This present was from Jean, too,” he says to Reiner.

Reiner gives a loud laugh and settles back down next to Bertolt again.

“Thanks,” he says, leaning over Bertolt to pat Jean’s arm, “this was amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” Jean laughs, sitting up to stretch. Bertolt knows he’s fucked out, too, when Jean lies back down on the bed and doesn’t get up again. Normally, he doesn’t wait around for cuddling—half the time letting Reiner and Bertolt recover together, and hopping into the shower alone—but this entire experience has been too intense for that.

“You know, Bertl, your birthday is coming up sort of soon,” Reiner remarks. 

Bertolt closes his eyes, his head tucked under Reiner’s chin, and he laughs softly.

“They don’t have anything in your size.”

Reiner makes a disappointed sound, Jean laughs, and Bertolt grins.

He found the perfect gift.


End file.
